


Vampires Will Never Hurt You

by ghostie324



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Connor is a vampire, Drug Use, Everyone lives/Nobody dies, F/F, Friends to Lovers, I promise, I'm so sorry, I'm trying my best, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nobody sparkles, Panic Attacks, Self Harm, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempts, Treebros, Violence, edward cullen who?, hope this is realistic???, i mean SUPER gay, i swear this isn't cliche, my boys are sad :(, my sad boys are idiots, projecting???? me????, sue me, this is super gay, validate jared, vampire!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-06-07 16:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15223052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostie324/pseuds/ghostie324
Summary: Evan gets shoved in the hallway. Connor steals letter.But Evan wants it back and Connor's more than a metaphorical monster.aka I try my best to make a vampire fic that isn't completely cliche





	1. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Evan gets an unpleasant surprise

Evan hates first days. 

It’s a pretty pessimistic outlook, he knows, but they’re scary. They’re terrifying. It’s crowded. The halls are full of friends squealing after a long time apart, and it’s tangible just how alone he is.

Evan _really_ hates first days.  


But his mom was excited. _New year, new start,_ she said, giving him this hopeful smile. She looked _so_ tired. He promised her he’d try, try to make friends and ‘have the best year ever!’. He can still hear her, _Ask them to sign your cast!_ and handing him a brand new Sharpie. He said that he would, but the notion of that seems increasingly impossible as he approaches the building. 

Already, he can see the kids filing in, the nervous freshman getting off buses and saying good bye to proud parents. His stomach twists, but he forces himself to walk in. It’s so loud and there’s people everywhere, and he knows they’re all looking at him and judging him, he can _feel_ their eyes on him. He takes a breath to steady himself, but it doesn’t really do much. Everyone’s with their friends, and lockers aren’t assigned yet, so Evan has nowhere to go, no one to talk to. He plays with the front of his cast, feeling lost.

“Hi, Evan!” Says a perky voice to his right. He starts, turning to face a chipper Alana Beck. “How was your summer? Mine was productive. I did three internships and 90 hours of community service. Impressive, I know. What happened to your arm?”

“Oh,” Evan says intelligently, before catching himself. “I, uh, fell out of a tree and, broke it.”

“Oh, that’s terrible! My grandmother broke her hip back in June. That was the beginning of the end, the doctors said. Because then she died.” There’s a brief, stifling silence where Evan _doesn’t know what to say to that oh my god_ before she perks up. “Anyways, have a happy first day!” 

And the whirlwind that is Alana Beck is already halfway down the hall. Evan is still recovering when Jared shows up, teasing him about breaking his arm from jacking off too much. 

“Uh, actually,” Evan stammers, blushing, “I fell out of a tree.”

“What are you, an acorn?” Jared’s laughing, and Evan can feel his cheeks burning.

“It’s funny, because after I fell, I was just lying on the ground, waiting for someone to find me,” He finds himself saying, “I kept thinking, ‘Any minute now, they’ll come for you.’”

“And?” Jared shifts, still smirking but looking slightly uncomfortable. “Did they?”

“N-No, actually, that’s the funny part. They never did.” He trails off with a weak laugh, and Jared just looks at him. Evan squirms, _you shouldn’t have said anything, Jared’s never going to let you live this down, stupid, stupid, stupid,_ but Jared’s already found someone else to pick on.

“Hey, Murphy, I’m digging the hair length,” Jared drawls, and Evan turns to see Connor Murphy, in his signature black hoodie and his hair grown down to his shoulders. He looks over at them, annoyed, and Jared continues. “Very School Shooter Chic!”

Evan sucks in a breath as a tense silence settles. “It’s a joke,” Jared explains, as if talking to a three-year-old.

“No, yeah, it’s funny,” Connor deadpans, taking a menacing step towards them. “Am I not laughing hard enough for you?”

Jared steps back, looking scared for a millisecond. He regains his composure quickly, wrinkling his nose at Connor. “God, you’re such a freak,” He mutters, intentionally loud enough for Connor to hear, and then he’s making his way down the hall. 

It’s just Evan and Connor now. The lanky boy is clenching and unclenching his fists, staring after Jared. After a too-long pause, Evan opens his mouth to say something, anything. What come out instead, to his absolute horror, is a nervous little bleat of laughter. Really, it’s nothing more than a choked-off chuckle, but it’s enough.

“Why the fuck are you laughing!?” Connor Murphy whirls on him, and Evan is terrified. “Stop fucking laughing!”

“No- I’m not!” He stammers, not that it does any good.

“You think I’m a freak?” Connor steps closer, anger basically radiating off him.  


“No! I-” Everyone is staring Evan doesn’t know what to do, his face is bright red and Connor is so close and so angry and

“ _You’re the fucking freak!_ ” There’s a force against Evan’s chest and suddenly he’s falling. With only one arm to break the fall, he finds himself on the floor, staring at Connor Murphy’s retreating figure. Oh. 

Oh.

His face is burning and everyone is _staring_ and he gets up, clumsily with one arm, and he’s shaking and he needs to leave, needs to get out, needs to- 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

It’s Zoe. Zoe Murphy. Evan feels himself get redder, as if that was humanly possible. His hands start to clam up. It’s _Zoe Murphy_ , who he has the biggest crush on. Zoe Murphy, who just saw Evan get shoved by her brother.

“No, yeah, I’m, uh, I’m fine.” He stammers, and she raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on how much of a mess he is.

“I saw what happened, and I’m sorry about my brother.” She grimaces, “He’s a complete psychopath. Anyways, I hope you’re okay.”

And she’s off. So.

That happened.

Evan rushes to class, bad arm aching and ‘ _you’re the fucking freak_ ' echoing in his head. It’s only when he sits down, seconds before the late bell, that he realizes that he never asked anyone to sign his cast.

 

*

__  
_Dear Evan Hansen._  
_Turns out this wasn’t an amazing day after all. This isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year, because why would it be?_

_I know, because there’s Zoe, and all my hope is pinned on Zoe, who I don’t even know, who doesn’t know me. Maybe if I could just talk to her. Maybe nothing would be different at all. I wish everything was different._

_I wish I was part of something. I wish that anything I said mattered to anyone. I mean face it, would anyone notice if I just disappeared tomorrow?_

_Sincerely,_  
_Your best, and most dearest friend,_  
_Me_  


His fingers hover above the keyboard, trembling slightly. He takes a deep breath and hits send, hearing the printer whir to life behind him. He closes the document without saving it, shuts off the computer. He’s turned, trying to find his phone in his bag when:

“How’d you break your arm?” 

Evan visibly flinches, but doesn’t let out the small scream rising in his throat. Small victories.

He turns to find Connor Murphy, rocking back and forth on his feet and holding a piece of paper. 

“Oh, I actually, uh, fell out of a tree,” says Evan, who is apparently incapable of forming sentences. 

“You fell out of a tree?” Connor snorts, “If that isn’t the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.” There’s a short lapse where Evan chuckles nervously, before Connor tilts his head. “No one’s signed your cast.”

“Oh, I know,” He feels a pang of guilt. His mom had been so excited for him to start over, but, here he was, eating lunch alone in the library writing depressed letters to himself, cast unsigned.

“I’ll sign it,” Connor completely interrupts his train of thought, and Evan blinks up at him in surprise. Before Evan can even process it, Connor stretches his hand out. “Do you have a Sharpie?”

Evan fumbles with the marker in his pocket, resists the urge to wipe his hands on his pants before handing it to him. Connor grabbed Evan’s arm a bit too forcefully, causing Evan to squeak in pain. Connor gets this panicked look on his face, but it passes quickly, and he uncaps the Sharpie.

Evan doesn’t know where to look, so he looks at Connor, whose long hair covers his face as he scribbles his name in obnoxiously large letters on the front side of Evan’s cast. This is Connor Murphy, the violent, angry, emo Connor Murphy that the whole school simultaneously feared and hated. Connor Murphy, who threw a printer at his teacher in the second grade. Connor Murphy, who shoved him in the hallway. 

Somehow, Evan can’t see it. This Connor is unsure, slightly awkward. Nervous, jittery. He’s none of the ridged edges from this morning. No, this Connor is almost soft. 

“There,” He lets go of Evan’s arm, and Evan’s eyes widen. Connor’s name left no space for anything else. “Now we can both pretend we have friends.” 

“Oh,” Evan says, tracing the edge of his cast before looking back up at Connor. “Yeah, uh, thanks.”

There’s a short silence. Evan’s pretty sure he’s shaking.

“This is yours, right?” Connor holds up the paper. “I picked up from the printer. ‘Dear Evan Hansen’, that’s you right?”

Evan’s blood freezes. His letter. His depressed, borderline suicidal letter that his therapist got him to write. In Connor Murphy’s hands. 

“Yeah, actually, could I have that back?” Evan swallows, trying not to show his rising panic. “That’s really important- it’s for, uh, it’s for an assignment.” His heart picks up as Connor reads it, almost reaching out to grab it from him, when Connor’s entire mood shifts. His grip on the paper tightens, causing it to crinkle.

“' _Because there’s Zoe_?’ Is this about my sister?” Evan can see the Angry Connor clearly now. All tense shoulders and sharp lines. This is why people are so scared of him. “Why the fuck are you writing about my sister?”

Evan is floundering, helplessly stammering, but Connor is still going. “You knew I would find this.” He says decisively, a deadpan look painted on his face, as if Evan just proved him right. 

“What?” 

“I’m the only other person in here. You… You knew I would find this. You printed off this freaky ass note about my sister so... So I would find it, and lose my shit.”

“Why… Why would I do that?” His genuine confusion sort of masks his fear. 

“So you could tell the school how much of a freak I am!” He’s yelling now, and Evan flinches back. “So you can go and tell everyone how fucking crazy I am, right!? Fuck you, Hansen.”

And then he’s pushing past Evan, stalking out the door. 

Evan stares at the name on his cast dazedly. Connor has his letter. What if shows it to Zoe? What if he shows it to everybody? Evan would go from being completely invisible to becoming the laughing stock of the school. They would stare and point and whisper and everyone would see him for the mess that he is and-

Connor could ruin his life with that letter. 

_‘Let’s make this the best year ever,_ ’ his mom’s voice echoes in his head, and Evan has to stop him. He needs to get that letter back. Before he can register what he’s doing, Evan’s pushing through the doors. 

“C… Connor! Wait!” He calls, spotting him storming down the hall, out the side doors. “Connor!” He goes faster, feeling the eyes on him, but he has to get that letter back. He basically throws himself out the doors, the sunlight nearly blinding him. Connor speeds up, and Evan is running now. When he’s close enough, Connor stops. 

“Get lost, Hansen,” He all but growls, and Evan would normally fall back, but he can’t stop now.

“Connor-” Evan reaches out to grab his shoulder, when Connor violently jerks away.

“Don’t _touch_ me!” He shouts as venomously as possible, whirling around to face him. There’s a wild and hungry look in his eyes, and Evan shrinks into himself. 

“I’m sorry, I-” He’s suddenly pressed against the wall in a blur of motion, and Connor is close, too close. The movement is too fast to process, but now he’s at Evan’s throat. “What-?”

And then. There’s a sharp pain at Evan’s neck, as if Connor bit him. And then there’s this pulling sensation and. Oh. Connor _did_ bite him. 

Oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay ! This is my first fic and I've been debating posting this for months. Please don't be mean to me, I'm fragile.  
> I hope you liked it? If you didn't, feel free to tell me why!!


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Connor fucks up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings for suicidal idealization, blood. It's nothing gory or gruesome, but stay safe !!

Connor never planned on going to the library.

The plan is simple. Stick it out until lunch so Cynthia can’t complain, then ditch to get high.

And despite the fight with Kleinman, Connor survived the morning. Not that it matters at all. It’s not like he’ll be alive to see tomorrow.

The plan is simple. Connor shouldn’t have any problem with going through with it.

But he sees a familiar blue shirt out of the corner of his eye as he stalks down the hallway.

Kleinman’s weird friend. The victim of this morning’s meltdown. Connor watches him duck into the library. 

His only real interaction with the kid had been shoving him in the hallway, which wasn’t exactly fair on Connor’s part. When the noises in his head died down a bit, he realized that the kid, (what was his name again? _Something_ Hansen), probably wasn’t laughing at him. And he had a cast. A fucking _cast_. What kind of monster shoves a kid with a broken arm?

And, well, it’s Connor’s Last Day On Earth. He kind of wants to do at least one good thing, fix _something_ , before he dies. So, ignoring the burning in his throat, Connor follows him in.

As he walks in, the printer whirs to life. Connor scans the room, but it’s just him and Something Hansen. Perfect. He picks up the paper and makes his way over to Hansen, _what the fuck is his first name?,_ who’s packing up his things.

Because Connor couldn’t think of anything better, he asks, “How’d you break your arm?”

The kid whirls around, clearly terrified. There’s a pause in which his mouth is open and grasping for words, but he seems like he’s floundering.

When he regains his composure, he stammers, “Oh, I actually, uh, fell out of a tree.”

Connor can’t help but laugh. What was he doing in a fucking tree? “You fell out of a tree? If that isn’t the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.” The kid just kind of nods, and when it’s clear he isn’t going to say anything, Connor notices that his bandaged arm is void of any names or signatures. “No one’s signed your cast.”

“Oh, I know,” the kid looks down, his cheeks growing red. Well, shit.

“I’ll sign it,” He blurts, and Something Hansen, ( _Aaron? Ethan?),_ snaps his head up to look at him in disbelief. “Do you have a Sharpie?”

He’s staring at Connor as if he’s some sort of alien species, and Connor tries not to laugh, because, well, he’s not that far from the truth. Hansen reaches into his pocket and hands Connor the marker.

He pulls the kid closer by his cast, resulting in a little yelp of pain.

And suddenly it’s all too much. Connor’s mouth dries and he can basically _feel_ the kid’s racing pulse through the cast. It's like he’s burning alive, like it’s the fucking Salem Witch Trials in his throat. It would be so easy to just do it. To just sink his teeth in soft flesh and ruin everything. He’s surprised at how much he wants to. He tries to snap himself out of it.

And then he’s scribbling his name in letters large enough to fill up the whole front of the cast.

_Way to fucking brand him, Connor._

Its not until he’s drawing the second _N_ that he realizes that that’s _exactly_ what he’s doing. He’s leaving proof of his existence on a kid he’s never even talked to. A kid who will now have the name of the classroom ghost stuck on his arm for the next few months. Connor is setting him up to be haunted.

Connor is _such_ a fucking asshole, because that almost makes him happy.

“There,” he finishes the _R_ and caps the marker, handing it back. “Now we can both pretend we have friends.”

“Oh,” Something Hansen says, looking kind of stranded. “Yeah, uh, thanks.” Connor’s vision gets dark for a second, the desire to attack this kid nearly overtaking him.

 _You need to get out of here._ _Just apologize and go._

Connor remembers that he’s holding the paper.

“This is yours, right?” He asks, his voice kind of breathy. He reads the first line. _Evan,_ that’s his name. “ _Dear Evan Hansen_ , that’s you, right?”

There’s a small beat of silence, and then the kid, _Evan_ , starts speaking.  “Yeah, actually, could I have that back?” He asks, with a tinge of desperation. Despite that, Connor finds himself reading it.

_‘Dear Evan Hansen._

_Turns out this wasn’t an amazing day after all. This isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year, because why would it be?’_

“That’s really important- it’s for, uh, it’s for an assignment.” Hansen’s voice cuts in, but Connor dismisses it.

_‘I know, because there’s Zoe, and all my hope is pinned on Zoe-’_

Wait. What the fuck?

Of course. Of- _fucking_ -course this kid would have some fucking fetish for his perfect angel of a sister.

He feels his blood start to boil. He clenches his teeth, only mildly surprised to feel his canines extend the slightest bit.

“’ _Because there’s Zoe’_?” He says dryly, and Hansen visibly stiffens, his face getting splotchy and red. “Is this about my sister? Why the _fuck_ are you writing about my sister?”

And then it dawns on him. This is a set up- the kid’s probably working with Kleinman or some shit to make Connor look like more of a fucking psychopath.

“You knew I would find this,” Connor deadpans, and he’s so goddamned _thirsty_ and it feels like betrayal but he doesn’t know why he expected anything else.

Evan, however, doesn’t drop his façade.

“What?” He asks, eyes wide and scared and _of course he’s afraid of you. You’re a monster. You’re literally a monster._

“I’m the only other person in here,” Connor’s fighting to keep his voice level, to keep himself in check so he doesn’t lose it and probably kill Evan. His teeth are sharp enough to draw blood now. He tries to ignore the coppery taste in his mouth. “You… You knew I would find this. You printed off this freaky ass note about my sister, so… So I would find it, and lose my shit.”

“Why… Why would I do that?” Evan stammers, and Connor is seeing red and he is so close to losing his grip, so close to ruining everything.

 “So you could tell the school how much of a freak I am!” He’s yelling now, the force of it ripping at his aching throat, and Evan flinches so hard he stumbles back. “So you can go and tell everyone how fucking crazy I am, right!?”

And that’s more than he can handle. Between his anger and the scent of Evan’s blood, Connor knows he’s at his limit. If he doesn’t leave now, he’s either going to kill himself on the spot or drain Hansen dry. He has to get out of here.

“Fuck you, Hansen.” He growls, and pushes past him. The hallway is so much worse. Most people are in the cafeteria, but Connor still needs to bite his tongue so he doesn’t attack any of the people he passes.

He has spent the past two months waiting for this, and he is _not_ about to let some anxiety-riddled shithead ruin it. No. He’s dying tonight.

Connor never should have step foot into that stupid library.

He’s close to the doors, almost there, which is good because he might just lose control.

He’s almost there.

“Connor! Wait!” Hansen calls, and Connor can’t get away faster. If this kid catches up, he doesn’t think he can stop himself. “Connor!”

And he slams through the doors. The sun is bright and painful, despite the clouds rolling in.  The rumors about vampires melting in the sunlight might be a myth, but it still fucking burns. It doesn’t matter though, because Connor would be dead tonight if he could get away from this damn school and fucking _Hansen-_ who bursts through the doors behind him. Connor tenses, speeding up. His throat is on fire. It would be so easy to drain him. It would make the pain stop.

Which would be nice, because everything hurts.

“Get lost, Hansen,” He manages lowly. He doesn’t expect it to work, but he doesn’t expect Evan to step closer, _too close_ , and reach out towards him. Connor’s insides tighten with need, it’s all so _overwhelming_ -

“Connor-”

“Don’t _touch_ me!” He shouts, jerking away, poison dripping off his words. His canines are fully extended, biting into his lip. He can hear the rush of Evan’s racing pulse as he staggers back, stammering out apologies.

A red haze blurs Connor’s vision.

_Fuck it._

And then Evan's up against the wall.

And then there’s blood, warm and sweet and everything he needed and how could he have starved for so long when blood tastes this _good?_

And then.

_Fuck._

Horror replaces the relief. Connor pushes away from Evan as quickly as he grabbed him, stumbling off to the side. He shoves fingers down his throat desperately, but he knows it’s too late. He retches painfully. Nothing comes out. He tries again.

_No. No no nonono- Fuck._

It’s too late. He can feel his arms healing, the constant ache reducing to numbness as his skin knits itself back together. Whatever’s left of his high clears, leaving everything too sharp and bright. It’s too late.

_Fuck._

He’s vaguely aware that he’s shaking as he lets out a frustrated yell. He punches the wall, the bricks caving in at the force of it. His skin stays intact.

“Fuck,” he groans, slumping against the wall. _Idiot. You’re such a fucking idiot._

He sits there, numb, until a quiet sob breaks him out of his trance.

_Hansen._

Connor looks over tiredly to see him huddled on the ground, his good hand clamped over the wound. There’s blood still seeping through his fingers and Connor hates himself for the thirst that tightens his throat.  Hansen’s eyes are wide and teary and his breathing is erratic and Connor somehow hates himself even more.

He doesn’t move as Evan clamors to his feet and runs away, as fast as he can. He doesn’t move as the bell for class rings. He just sits, wishing he were dead.

He was so close. He was so fucking close.

When it starts to rain, he imagines himself melting away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does this... count as angst???  
> i know it's a bit of a rewrite, but i thought that Connor's side of this scene was really important. i promise that perspective changes won't always just be rewrites!  
> anyways, i hope you like it? thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments! you have no idea how happy it made me  
> ALSO if i missed anything that should be a trigger warning let me know!  
> thanks for reading !


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Evan takes a nap

Being bitten by his vampire(?) classmate wasn’t on the list of Things That Could Go Terribly Wrong, but. Here we are.

Evan is sitting on the floor in a bathroom stall, trying to remember how to breathe. After a few painful moments, he pulls a shaking hand away from his neck. It’s wet with blood.

He stares at it, his stomach flipping. He thinks he might throw up. And then he’s hunched over the toilet, puking out the little he managed to eat at lunch. When he’s done and wiping his mouth, he sees his bloody handprint, bright red and glaring on the white toilet bowl.

He gags again.

He forces himself to breath in the way Dr. Sherman taught him. Inhale for four. Hold for seven.

His heart is beating so fast. Evan curls up against the wall, closing his eyes. Exhale for eight.

He stays there, just breathing, barely holding down the panic, until he calms down enough to move.

He’s not sure how long it takes, but when he opens his eyes, his tears have dried, leaving salty residue, and his legs are cramped. The dull throbbing in his neck is becoming harder and harder to ignore.

Okay.

He takes a shaky breath, standing slowly to investigate the damage.

He almost doesn’t want to look. What if Connor wasn’t a vampire and he just bit Evan to mess with him?  He’d read somewhere that human bite wounds always get infected. What if Evan gets an infected neck? And then he’ll have to show his mom, and explain that instead of getting his cast signed and making friends, the only person who signed his cast attacked him and bit him just for kicks. And his mom would be so disappointed, because only her son has the capability to get bitten by Connor Murphy on the first day of school.

But what if Connor _is_ a vampire? Does that mean Evan will turn into a vampire too? Will he have to run away from home so that his mom won’t find out what a monster he’s become because he’s just _that_ bad at talking to people?

Evan steels himself the best that he can and unlocks the door. A disaster of a reflection stares back at him through the warped plastic mirror. There’s blood coating his neck and the collar of his shirt, streaking the side of his face. He looks like a homicide victim on CSI, one they would find in a dark alleyway. He takes a shaky step forward to get a closer look.  There are two bloody wounds, bite marks, at the base of his neck. _Vampire_.

So, Connor Murphy, the ‘School Freak’, is a vampire? Somehow it fits the dark, brooding emo kid vibe he has.

_Okay. Vampires are real. Cool._

He doesn’t know what that means for him, exactly.

The miniature first aid kit Heidi insisted he take with him is open on the counter in front of him, but Evan doesn’t know where to start. How do you patch up bite marks? On your neck?

It almost feels like he should google it.

He settles for washing off the blood. It takes a long time and a lot of paper towel, and the fact that nobody came in is the luckiest part of Evan’s day. When he looks less like a walking corpse, he gingerly covering the holes with band-aids. They hurt a lot more now, and Evan tries not to think of the poison that’s probably in his veins, changing him into something even more horrible. Now he won’t only be a freak, but a blood sucking monster too?

He’d probably die, because he wouldn’t be able to approach people to drink their blood.

And how will he explain this to his mom? Like, _Yeah, I did what you said and now I’m a vampire. Surprise!_

Evan didn’t think it would go well.  For now, he’ll hide it. He has to.

_It’s not like she’s around to notice._

He washes his face, heart racing at painful speeds. He puts away the first aid kit and wipes the blood off the toilet bowl and counters, eyes heavy and swollen. It burns when he blinks.

He grabs his backpack with shaking hands, glancing back at the mirror.

His collar is rumpled, the mix of water and blood turning the light blue fabric a dark indigo that stains all the way to his shoulder. There’s traces of blood on his neck, where it’s seeping through the bandages. He needs something to cover it up.

He hurries through empty hallways to the lost and found, which has a surprising number of things in it for the first day of school. He digs through it, all hats and pants and things Evan _really_ wishes he didn’t touch, until he finds an extra large pink hoodie near the bottom.

He tries not to think of where it’s been, of all the diseases he might be getting as he clumsily tugs it over his head. He bites his lip to keep from crying out when the movement disrupts his wound. Evan takes a breath, pulls up the hoodie, shoulders his bag, and makes his escape.

He tries not to flinch as he rounds the corner and sees a teacher walking in his direction. Heart pounding, he keeps his head down, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“Hood down, please,” The teacher calls distractedly, not even bothering to stop. Evan lowers the hood, letting out a short sigh of relief. He pushes through a side door, glancing quickly behind him before stepping into the rain.

Evan doesn’t really remember the walk home, but he’s on his porch, soaking wet, tears tracing down his face.

His hands are shaking so much that it takes him three tries to get his key into the lock.

Nyx, who was sleeping by the stairs, walks over and rubs against Evan’s ankles as soon as he walks in. He doesn’t have the energy to do anything but stoop to pet her before continuing the trek to his bedroom. She follows diligently, and Evan gives a weak smile.

He collapses in bed after stripping out of his wet clothes, barely managing to climb under the covers before his eyes are closing, Nyx settling in the blankets next to him. She purrs softly, and he lifts an arm to pet her. She stretches and resettles, closer now, warm and heavy on Evan’s chest and he’s so grateful to have a cat.

He doesn’t think he could make it alone anymore.

 

*

 

He’s awake sooner than he wants to be, which is three hours later. His eyes are sore and heavy as he lays still, wishing himself back to sleep.

It doesn’t work.  

It’s still early, just a little past five, when he convinces himself to move. He feels gross and sweaty as he pushes back the blankets. His head is stuffy and light, like it’s been stuffed with cotton.

He needs to shower.

A wave of dizziness hits him as he goes to stand up, and Evan lets himself fall back down. He tries again, slowly, this time, and makes his way over to the bathroom.

He showers longer than he should have- standing under the scalding water until it runs cold, and then standing under the cold water until he goes numb.

He doesn’t register getting out of the shower, but now he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, wrapped in a worn towel. And he stares at the wall until he’s uncomfortably aware of how the water dried on his skin.

It’s much later by the time he’s dressed and staring blankly at his homework.

He briefly considers dinner, _this is around when normal people eat, right?,_  but then he’d have to order a pizza and give the money to the delivery guy and, oh God, what if he dropped the money and they both bent down to pick it up? Or if they just watched Evan as he scrambled to pick it all up, but it just kept slipping? What if he dropped the _pizza?_

Evan decides he isn’t hungry.

How is he supposed to do anything? His scary emo vampire classmate _bit him._ His wound- bite mark? - is throbbing, as if the memory made it worse.

Why did Connor let him run away? Shouldn’t he have tried to stop Evan? Or, or was Connor just playing some sick game of Cat and Mouse, waiting for Evan to feel safe and then springing out from the corner and killing him?

At first, the thought almost calms him. It seems to be the worst-case scenario, and, on the plus side, Evan would be dead. It seems to be an easy enough way to go. But then his mom would find him, on the floor, empty. And Evan promised himself that he’d never do anything that she’d have to find. Or.

Even worse.

Connor attacks at night, killing both Heidi and Evan. His blood freezes.

The house creaking isn’t unusual. It’s an old building, and the Hansen’s are more than used it. But Evan actually jumps when the old wood board whines as it settles. He holds a hand to his chest, trying to still his racing heart, only to flinch away from the shadow of a tree from the window.

That’s it, he decides, closing his textbook and rubbing his eyes. He’s not getting anything done tonight.

He double checks the doors before trekking up to his room and collapsing into the rumpled sheets of his bed.

Hopefully, he thinks, for the first time in what feels like years, hopefully, he’ll wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go boys.  
> I gave Evan a cat? Heidi's work friend had a litter of kittens she couldn't keep, and convinced Heidi to bring one home.  
> Evan named it Nyx cuz he's a nerd.  
> Thanks again to everyone for the comments and kudos?!?!?! I'm crying  
> If I missed anything that should have a trigger warning, please let me know!  
> :)


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Evan goes to school

Evan wakes up to Heidi shaking his shoulder.

“Evan! C’mon, get up.”

It takes him a moment to process it, but he rubs his swollen eyes and looks up her. His eyebrows furrow as he takes in her scrubs, and the purse hanging off her shoulder. Is she going in early?

“You’re late, sleepyhead. Man, you sleep like the dead.”

Evan winces, sitting up. She hit a little too close to home there.  

“I gotta get going, kiddo. Try not to get to school late, okay?” She ruffles his hair, offering him a tired smile. “I’ve got class after work again. Make sure you eat something tonight.” She gives him a meaningful look before leaving his room. He distantly hears the front door close behind her.

He’s late? He stares blankly at the clock until he registers the time.

Seven fifteen?

And then Evan’s throwing the blankets off and shooting out of bed, trying to ignore the way the room spins and him stomach flips.

He puts a hand to his neck to figure out why it’s aching.

Oh. Right. A vampire bit him.

Obviously.

He brushes his teeth and gets dressed, painfully aware of the way his heart is beating too fast, the way he can’t quite keep his hands from shaking, the glaring name on his cast.  Maybe he just won’t go to school- then he wouldn’t have to deal with being late, or run the risk of a confrontation with Connor.

But, he already left school early yesterday. He can’t miss more school. His teachers would hate him. What if they call him out in front of the class? 

He jerks his shoes on as fast as he can, barely stopping to lock the door behind him.

He’s halfway down the block before he’s wondering if he actually locked the door or not, and then he’s jogging back to check.

He doesn’t want to have to run, because then everyone on the street would look and see him, panting and red faced, struggling to breathe and be fast enough at the same time. And when he finally gets to school, he’d be out of breath and sweaty and people would think he’s gross, and Jared would call him names, and everybody would laugh at him-

He tries to maintain a brisk pace.

He gets to school a few minutes before the bell, thankfully not too sweaty. Jared is nowhere to be found. Evan loiters by his locker, knowing he looks weird, just standing there, alone, but doesn’t know what to do. His breathing is getting funny, and he’s hyperaware of every shift in position, every person who walks past or glances at him. He traces the lettering on his cast.

Great. Now he’s the freak standing at his locker alone _and_ the freak who can’t breathe right. Maybe coming back to school was a mistake. Maybe he should drop out, or get home schooled, or climb higher-

“Holy _shit,_ dude,” Jared’s laugh makes him jump out of skin. Evan was so lost in thought he didn’t even see Jared coming. He presses his good hand to his chest in an attempt to calm his racing heart.

“O-Oh, hi Jared,” Evan stutters, before wincing at the fact that he stuttered. His tongue feels heavy and uncomfortable in his mouth.

Jared ignores his greeting altogether. “ _Connor Murphy_ signed your cast?” He all but yells it, a few girls glancing over at them. Evan’s cheeks burn, and he looks at the offending boy desperately. Jared keeps on talking, voice unnecessarily loud. “How on earth did you manage that? _Oh my God,_ you guys are fucking, aren’t you! Is he into kinky shit? Oh, he totally is. And here I thought you were in love with Zoe-”

“Shut up, Jared!” He cries, and if people weren’t looking before, they are now. Evan lowers his voice. “It’s not like that. Connor just signed it because no one else signed it and he felt bad. It’s not like we know each other.” _He just stole my letter, and maybe turned me into a vampire._ Evan rubs at his neck, wincing.

“ _Connor Murphy_ felt bad for _you_? God, you’re pathetic.” Jared’s laughing, the sound making Evan’s stomach twist.

“Don’t say his name like that,” He murmurs, but Jared ignores him. There’s a moment of dying laughter and built up confidence where Evan blurts, “Do you- uh, do you want to sign it, too? My cast, I mean.”

Jared sobers almost instantly. He’s looking at Evan with a smile that borders somewhere between sarcastic and cruel. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Wha- Because we’re friends,” Evan says with a tinge of desperation, the statement curling into a question. Even he’s not convinced.

Jared gives a harsh bark of laughter. “No, dude. We’re _family_ friends. That’s completely different. You don’t seriously think I’d hang out with you if I didn’t have to, do you?” There’s a beat of silence in which Evan can’t breathe. Sure, he knew that he and Jared weren’t exactly _close_ , but… “Look, can you come over on Friday? I need my car insurance paid.” Evan nods clumsily. Jared shoots him finger guns, as if nothing happened, and disappears into the crowd.

Evan’s alone again, but when is he not? He’s always on the outside, never a part of something.  Just, looking in _._ Stuck watching everyone else co-exist while he’s left behind, forgotten on the sidelines. It’s like he’s waving through a window, but nobody ever sees him.

The glass is probably tinted.

The bell rings, and he makes his way to class, numb.

By the time Evan sits down at his desk, his breathing is almost steady. He thinks he might be in the clear, that he’ll hopefully be able to keep things under control and last the whole day.

That is, of course, until he turns to find Connor Murphy sitting across from him.

Connor Murphy, slouched over on his desk, head resting in his arms and hair obscuring most of his face from view.

Evan nearly jumps out of his skin. He didn’t even know Connor was even _in_ his homeroom, let alone sitting so close.

Is he sleeping? Evan almost can’t look away. He didn’t realize he was staring until Connor’s cold blue eyes slide over and they lock gazes. Evan tears his eyes away and faces the front, heart racing.

Halfway through class, Evan can feel the prick of a cold stare on his skin. It’s weird, because most times when he thinks he’s being stared at, he can try to convince himself it’s all in his head.

He can barely focus on the notes he’s taking, the words blurring on the page. Evan doesn’t even notice the time until the bell rings, and then he’s scrambling to get all his things in his bag with one arm, and his hands are shaking and he’s crumpling things and

A slip of paper lands on his desk, and Evan looks up to see Connor’s retreating figure. He forces himself to take a breath, picking up the torn notebook paper. In black pen, in the middle of the page, reads _meet me at lunch_.

Evan stills before shoving it in his pocket and shouldering his backpack. _Meet me at lunch._ Is he going to be ambushed? Killed? Maybe he’d turn into the school sob story, people noticing his absence more than they ever noticed him. Maybe people would pretend to have been close with him to gain sympathy or attention. _I knew him! We were close acquaintances. I think he was in my English class?_ Maybe there would be school wide assemblies, a tribute in the yearbook. Or maybe. Maybe nothing would change. Maybe he’d be dead and gone and no one would bat an eye.

He wasn’t sure which scared him more.

He looks at the note again. _Meet me at lunch._ But _where?_

The bell rang. Evan decides to check the cafeteria first.

He hates the cafeteria. Only people with friends go to the cafeteria. Groups of people push past him to grab their seats or buy lunch, and he tries to focus on finding Connor. He sees Zoe, laughing with her jazz band friends, but the other Murphy is nowhere to be seen.

Alright. Great.

Honestly, Evan doesn’t know _why_ he checked here for Connor. _Only people with friends go to the cafeteria._ He’s not sure Connor’s stepped in this cafeteria once in his life.

He checks the library next. It’s empty as well, and the librarian pointedly ignores Evan when he smiles at her.

The only other place he can think to check is the back of the school, where he followed Connor yesterday. Where he was… attacked?

He hesitantly pushes open the doors and is instantly met with a cool breeze. The sky is grey, but it’s not raining yet. Connor Murphy is sitting in the exact spot Evan left him the day before.

It’s like he never even moved.

Evan hovers there, not sure if he should say something or just wait for Connor to acknowledge his presence. A few seconds pass before Evan sits against the wall, next to him.

A few more seconds pass.

“I…” Evan’s voice breaks through the tense silence, but it’s awkward and wavering. He bites his lip before trying again. “I’m sorry. About yesterday. Well… about everything? Like, in the hallway? With, uh, with Jared. I didn’t mean to laugh- Not that anything was funny! I just… I didn’t know what to say next and … I definitely wasn’t laughing at you! I’m sorry you took it that way. I-I mean, how else would you take it? Because what Jared said was mean and I laughed, so it probably did seem like I was laughing at you-”

Connor make this kind of half-amused, half-exasperated snort that cuts off Evan’s rambling. Evan looks at him, confused and a little out of breath.

“I bit you,” Connor says slowly, “and _you’re_ apologizing?” Evan just stares at Connor with wide eyes, and he shakes his head in disbelief. “Jesus, I’m not going to fucking kill you.”

“I-I’m sorry, I-”

“Hansen.” Connor’s angry now, as if he wasn’t before. “Stop apologizing.”

 “Right. Sorry.” Evan says, wincing. He bites his tongue to keep from saying it again. Connor doesn’t do anything to fill the silence, so Evan takes a deep breath to try to psych himself up.

God, he hates confrontation. But… he needs to know. “You’re… You’re a vampire.”

There’s a long pause, and Connor finally looks at him. His eyes hold nothing but a deep sort of exhaustion, the kind that casts shadows dark enough to look like bruises. It looks like Connor hasn’t slept for days. Evan tries not to squirm under his gaze.

“Yeah,” He says, half-nodding, eyes cast towards the ground.

“Cool,” Evan replies, because he couldn’t think of anything better to say. Seconds tick by, Evan’s fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt. “Not cool, actually. Uh, sorry, but… You.. You bit me.”

“Yeah,” Connor does that half-nod again, “It was an accident.”

Evan isn’t sure what to do now.

“Oh.”

There’s another long pause. Evan watches an ant march along the cracked asphalt.

“Look, I can fix this, okay?” Connor says, with something akin to exasperation. Evan snaps his head up towards him. “I can heal you. I can make you forget about all this, so we can both move on with our meaningless existences.”

Make him… forget?

“You mean like… erase my memories?”

Connor doesn’t answer, letting his head roll back against the brick wall. After a moment, he leans towards Evan, but the movement is too sudden for him to process.

“Wait-!” Evan yelps, both arms up to cover his face.

Connor grimaces, almost defensively. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Evan pales, realizes that it must look like he’s scared of his vampire classmate. Which... he  _is,_ but that isn’t why he stopped him. “No, no, it’s just… Can I, uh, if it’s okay with you, I’d… I’d like to remember?”

“You… What?” He falls back, his surprise making way for suspicion almost instantly. His eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I-I won’t tell anyone!” Evan promises. “It’s not like anyone would believe me, anyways. Jared would never let me live it down."

“Then why?”

“I… I just, don’t want to forget.” Evan stammers, looking up at him. It’s weird, right? Connor’s going to think he’s a freak for wanting to remember getting attacked. Jared would definitely make some inappropriate joke, call him a masochist or something, if he were here. A moment passes, then another, before Connor softens.

“…Okay.” He says finally, and Evan sort of smiles. Neither of them move, the silence settling. What happens now? Connor meets his eyes, almost sheepishly, and Evan catches a glimpse of the soft Connor who signed his cast. “I… I could still heal you.”

Evan nods, heart racing as he reaches up to take off the band-aid. He hisses at the pain, Connor tensing next to him.

Connor stares, blue eyes wary. Is Evan supposed to move? What does ‘being healed’ involve?

And suddenly, Connor’s close. Too close. With one hand on Evan’s shoulder, and the other under Evan’s chin, he leans in. For a second, it looks like Connor is going to kiss him. But then he’s at Evan throat, and it hurts before it doesn’t. A warmth is spreading, and Evan relaxes under it. It’s… It’s the calmest he’s felt in a really long time.

Connor pulls away, taking the warmth with him.

Blinking, Evan touches the spot on his neck. He can barely find the bite marks. All that’s left was a faint scar, a fading heat. The pain ebbs away completely.

“Thanks,” Evan offers a soft smile. “Does… Does this mean I won’t turn into a vampire, too?”

Connor rolls his eyes. “You were never going to turn. It doesn’t work like that.” 

“Oh.” Evan can help the relieved sigh that escapes his lips. He won’t have to run away, abandoning his mom just like- “Good.”

Connor turns to him, eyes searching. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“You _really_ don’t have to worry about that.” He smiles pathetically. “I have no one to tell.”

Connor raises an eyebrow. “Not even Kleinman?”

“Especially not Jared.” Evan is grinning now, though he can’t explain why. Connor stares at him for a long moment before pushing himself up from the wall.

“The bell’s going to ring soon,” He says it like a goodbye, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Evan nods at him, unable to think of something to say, and Connor starts to walk off.

“You aren’t staying?” Evan calls, on an impulse, because he had to say _something_. Connor pauses for a heartbeat, almost turning back to him before stepping into the parking lot.

Evan just sits there, rubbing his new scar and staring at his cast. Connor was right. The bell rings less than a minute after he disappears.

He forces himself to get up, to open the doors, to get lost in the sea of people in the crowded hallway. He sits down in his next period class, already farther than he got yesterday.

It’s not until after school, when his mom calls to remind him about his appointment with Dr. Sherman, that he realizes that Connor still has his letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!!!  
> It's been a while, sorry !!  
> I hope you enjoyed?? The plot's taking off kinda slowly but...  
> Thanks to everyone who left comments and gave kudos?? I cried.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!!


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Evan chooses a partner

It’s been two weeks since Evan’s last interaction with Connor. Sure, Evan’s hyper-aware of him now, always spotting him in the hallways and subconsciously staring at him in class, but they haven’t actually spoken since the second day of school.

For some reason, it leaves a sort of hollow feeling in his chest. He couldn’t help but have higher expectations- that minuscule, nagging, hopeful part of his brain convinced him to look forward to friendship with a vampire. Two social outcasts finding themselves in each other. Something stupid like that.  

Evan grimaces at his sandwich, still in its wrapping and sitting innocently on the library table. A signed cast and a smile doesn’t make them friends. A shared secret doesn’t mean that they’ll have anything else in common. If anything, their encounter would make Connor avoid him. Evan hates himself for even considering the possibility of Connor wanting to stick around, because, why would he?

Did he even want to be friends with the ‘Resident Psychopath’? The ‘School Freak’ who’s a literal vampire?

He sighs, putting the sandwich, untouched, back in his bag. He turns to the computer.

_Dear Evan Hansen,_

_Today’s going to be a good day, and here’s why:_

His fingers hover the keyboard, mind blank. Why _would_ it be a good day? He hasn’t seen his mom in three days, Jared laughed at his attempt to eat lunch together, Connor Murphy wants nothing to do with him-

Why does Connor Murphy have anything to do with how his day is going? He dismisses the thought with a quick shake of his head.

And Zoe Murphy doesn’t know he exists. Or, maybe she does, a little bit, because she spoke to him that one time. After Connor pushed him. So, Zoe _maybe_ knows him as the loser her brother pushed on the first day of school. Great.

Does… Zoe know that Connor’s a vampire? Is she one too? He rubs at his neck, fingertips scratching at the now-familiar shape of a new scar.

The screen goes dark, the computer on stand-by. Evan shakes the mouse to be met with a cursor blinking expectantly, exactly where he left it. He has nothing. There’s no reason for today to be a good day. But if he doesn’t write this letter, he’ll have nothing to give to Dr. Sherman. He can practically see the disappointed look in her eyes as he turns up, empty handed.

_Is there a reason you didn’t write a letter, Evan?_

He sighs again, watching the cursor blink, once, twice, before shutting down the computer. He packs up his things, feeling invisible eyes on him, judging as he fumbles with the bag’s zipper. He walks out of the library, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

He doesn’t try to smile at the librarian.

He finds himself at the back door, the exit to the side of the school. He doesn’t know why he keeps coming back here. If he opens it, if he steps into the blue-gray of an overcast September afternoon, will Connor be there? Despite everything, Evan kind of grins to himself.

Schrödinger’s Murphy.  

Before he can talk himself out of it, he pushes the door open. He shivers, met with a chilled breeze that’s bordering out of season.

Connor’s not here. Connor’s never here. Evan isn’t sure if he’s happy about this or not.

The weight in his chest implies the latter.

He shivers again, clumsily dropping himself to the ground, back to the wall.

He tugs at his hair with his good hand, eyes clenched shut as if that would block out the crushing feeling that’s eating him alive.

Nothing’s wrong, he muses, staring at the clouds until black dots swarm his vision, but nothing’s _right_ either.

Things could always be worse.

It’s cold, he decides, curling into himself. His arm is pricked with goosebumps. His eyes settle on a dent in the wall, a spot where the bricks are slightly caved in.  

He understands why Connor would like it here. It’s surprisingly quiet. Normally there’s no place in school that Evan won’t find other people loitering in. There’s nowhere to hide. But here, in the grass across from the parking lot, he hasn’t been found by anyone yet.

Except… Connor never _said_ he liked it here, Evan realizes with a start. In fact, he doesn’t have any proof that the vampire had ever come here, outside of the times he was waiting or running from him.

No wonder he hasn’t seen Connor here since.

He should be upset that he’s so stupid, but the realization is almost happy. He has it all to himself. He leans his head against the bricks, eyes closing as another gust of wind tousles his hair and seeps into his bones.

It’s definitely cold.

He lets himself numb, both inside and out.  He can’t feel anything, and for once, he’s glad for it. He sits there until the bell forces him to get up and brave the busy halls.

There’s a couple making out against his locker. He needs his book for English, which just so happens to be _in_ his locker. The couple pay him no mind, too occupied with shoving their tongues down each other’s throats.

He runs through his options.

He could interrupt them, but then they’d hate him. He could wait for them to be done, they have to go class eventually, right? But that might make him late, and then everyone would stare at him and he’d get in trouble, which would be bad. And then they’d think he was watching them- which he definitely is not doing. So, they’d hate him either way.

Great.

He steps forward, just a little, mouth opening, because he really can’t be late. He needs to grab his book. But. No sound comes out. He can’t do it. He turns with reddened cheeks and empty hands, hurrying down the hall because his class is on the other side of the building and why would he even bother keeping his book in his locker if it’s so far away?

He gets to class with a minute to spare, but by now everyone’s already in their seats, talking to each other about the weekend plans, or upcoming deadlines, or whose girlfriend cheating on who.

Connor isn’t here. Evan glances at his empty seat, watching with vague interest as Brett Brennan drops himself carelessly into Connor’s chair, not breaking conversation with Taylor Rosado.

“Hey, Murphy’s gonna kill you,” Taylor warns mockingly. Brett rolls his eyes.

“Like I’m scared of that freak,” He rolls his eyes, putting his hands behind his head as he leans into his stolen chair. Evan thinks he should be. “It’s not like he’ll show anyways.”

“That’s true,” Taylor laughs, “It’s like having an extra desk. I _almost_ love having him as a neighbor, just for that. But it’s so bad when he’s actually here. Creeps me right out.”

“Good thing that never happens, huh,” Brett grins.

On cue, Connor steps into the room, just as the bell rings. The desk thief stops laughing.

He doesn’t notice, not at first. He walks, head down, towards his seat. Evan can pinpoint the exact moment he does. His head snaps up, his step falters, his tired eyes harden.

He just stands there, scowling at Brett, frozen. Lingering. Brett has no problem staring him down, looking smug.

“Connor, nice of you to show up,” This doesn’t come from Brett. Evan turns to the front, to where Mrs. Simmons is standing, arms crossed. “Now, would you mind taking a seat, so I can start my class?”

Evan refuses to turn back to where Connor is standing, so he nearly jumps out of his skin when the chair next to him is yanked back, the metal legs squealing against the linoleum tiles.

Connor Murphy plunks himself down as if he were a rag doll, or a bag of bones.

Evan does a quick glance around the room to confirm that was the only seat available.

It wasn’t. Brett’s usual seat, at the front, remains vacant. So does Eleanor’s, just to Evan’s left.

Oh.

“Thank you, Connor,” Mrs. Simmons quips from her spot by the projector, before starting class.

Evan tries his best to focus, furiously scribbling down the notes despite how messy his handwriting looks because he’s always too slow and he can’t miss the last sentence before she changes the slide. If he does, then he’ll have to ask someone around him, and then they’ll think he’s dumb and slow, or miss the notes and fail and not get accepted into any university and be a burden on his mom for the rest of his (hopefully short) life. But he can’t even ask for the last sentence because the only person next to him is Connor, and Connor’s not taking notes.

Connor is, however, watching him.

Evan’s painfully aware of this. Connor’s watching him take his messy notes filled with cut off sentences and “ _add more!!_ ” in the margins.

Eventually, Connor turns away, and when Evan’s done with the slide, he allows himself to glance over. Connor’s digging around in his bag for something. After a few moments, he pulls out a black, faceless book and a pencil.

The slide changes, sending Evan straight back into his note-taking frenzy.

“Alright,” Mrs. Simmons shuts off the powerpoint as Evan scrambles to finish the last line. “We’re on Act 3, so, books out.”

He doesn’t have his book.

He watches helplessly as everyone around him starts pulling out their own copies, stomach filling up with dread.  

He’s going to have to raise his hand and announce to the whole class that he forgot his book. And Mrs. Simmons will hate him for disrupting, and she might not even let him go, and then everyone will know that he’s an idiot who couldn’t even get a book out of his locker-

A book, _the book,_ is pushed onto his desk.

Evan tears his eyes away from the book to look at Connor, but he’s gone back to writing, hair shielding his face from view. His gaze flicks between the boy and the copy of _Hamlet._

“Oh,” He breathes, picking it up. “Thank you.”

Connor doesn’t respond, giving a little nod. Evan feels his lips twitch into the smallest of smiles, picking up the worn copy and opening it.

It’s not school-issued. There’s an inscription on the front page: _Happy 11 thBirthday, nerd! _with a goofy drawing of a girl in a party hat.

Evan flips past it quickly, not wanting Connor to see him reading it. If Connor caught him, he doesn’t react. He finds the page just as people start volunteering for reading parts. Alana Beck’s hand is raised the highest for Hamlet.

“Ryan for Hamlet, Alana for Ophelia,” Mrs. Simmons declares, and Evan can see her wilt, just slightly, as she lowers her arm.

She smiles again, straightening her glasses.

Evan kind of zones out, reading ahead of the people speaking, only following Alana, who barely glanced at the text. He wonders how she got so sure of the words, how she got so sure of her voice. Maybe she read through it beforehand, counting on the participation marks?

Ryan, on the other hand, is struggling through Hamlet’s fourth soliloquy, the famous question: _To be or not to be?_

Evan lets his eyes glaze, letting the words swim on the page of his borrowed book. Until.

Until he hears it.

_“For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil-”_

It’s Connor, his voice so soft Evan has to strain to hear.

His eyes snap back into focus, reading to follow Connor’s murmuring in quiet awe.

_“The pangs of despised love, the law’s delay-”_

Every line is said perfectly, in contrast to Ryan’s stumbling. Connor… memorized Shakespeare?

There’s no hesitation, no missed line or comma or… _anything._ Connor just… knows it.

It’s kind of beautiful.

_“-in thy orisons be all my sins remember’d.”_

Evan gets lost in it, jolting when Connor stops. Ryan is still going, tripping over the words. Some people are laughing. It’s mostly Brett.

Connor doesn’t say anything else.

When the bell rings, Evan holds out the book towards Connor, who’s shoving things into his messenger bag.

“Thanks,” He says. Connor merely nods in reply.

 

*

 

Evan’s only a little disappointed when Connor doesn’t show up to class the next day.

Brett stole his spot again, arm now slung around Taylor. He doesn’t think Connor’s getting his seat back.

“Alright, class,” Mrs. Simmons is talking, staring them down expectantly. “It’s time to pick your partners for the Analysis Project. You have five minutes, so hurry up.”

Evan’s stomach curls. _Partners_. God, he hates group projects.

Unless they’re with Alana Beck.

Not because she’ll do all the work like everyone thinks she will. Evan tries to keep it as even among them as possible. It’s just… She gets him. She doesn’t pressure him to speak in front of everyone, and they actually work pretty well together.

He turns towards her, the question already formed on his lips, only to find five other people already surrounding her.

“I’m sorry, but there’s an odd number of people. I told Mrs. Simmons that I’d do this one by myself,” She smiles apologetically. Evan deflates as the crowd around her disperses.

Oh.

Oh no.

He scans the room but sees no one in the flurry of people that he would even consider asking.

He sits there, hopelessly, as everyone gets paired off. He hates group projects because they emphasize the divide between him and literally everyone else. What are people like him, outcasts and losers, supposed to do in times like these?

His mind wanders to Connor Murphy. Lately it seems that’s all it does. He would probably do the same thing, right? Mope at his desk until everyone else has a partner and some unlucky person is forced to be his?

Wait.

_Connor._

The vampire boy who bit him and shoved him in the hallway.

The boy who the whole school both mocks and fears.

The boy who let him keep his memory, who signed his cast, who quotes Shakespeare under his breath.

He’s walking before he can convince himself not to.

“Mrs. Simmons?” His teacher looks up from her computer. “Can I be Connor’s partner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi !!  
> it feels like forever since i last posted. sorry about that.  
> so, here it is.
> 
> also, another thank you to all the kudos and comments and bookmarks? honestly you have no idea how happy it makes me  
> thanks for reading !


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Evan gets a pleasant surprise

It’s been days, almost a week, since Connor has come to school. Normally, this wouldn’t bother Evan. Normally, Evan would have no problem going about the day in his absence, but.

It’s been a week since Evan became Connor’s English partner, and Connor doesn’t even know. Their project is due in eight days, and Evan has no way of contacting him. Of course, he could just do the project by himself, slap Connor’s name on it and call it a day. But… He kind of  _wants_ to do it with Connor. He wants to give him the option, at least. The only thing is, they’re running out of time.

With every day that passes, it gets worse. He keeps expecting to see Connor walk into Homeroom, or English, or even to find him at lunch, but it never happens. A heavy weight settles in Evan’s chest. He’s going to have to take matters into his own hands.

And that means talking to Zoe Murphy.

The cafeteria is packed. He sees her at her table, the band table, and considers just going and asking for Connor’s number. But that would be weird, right? Just, going up to her, in front of all of her friends. And she would ask why, because asking for a sibling’s number is weird. And she would think he was a freak, or he was pranking her, because nobody talks to Connor, anyways. And the whole table of band kids would be staring at him, wondering why he bothered them.

And he would have to talk to _Zoe Murphy_.

He turns, almost bumping into someone as he retreats from the high school battleground.

And, when the bell rings, he gives up.

Connor wouldn’t want to be his partner, anyways. He’ll just do the project by himself, even though it’s a lot of work and he’s waited so long that he’ll probably have to put off other work to get it done, and it’s only the first month of senior year and he’s already falling behind, and his grades aren’t going to be good enough to be accepted into any university, so he’ll end up living with his mom until he dies, and she’ll be so, so disappointed in him-

The bell rings again, jarring him out of his downward spiral. He’s in class. He doesn’t remember coming in, or sitting down, but he’s staring at the board, bag under his desk.

Oh.

And Connor’s in his usual seat, already writing in that black book of his.

_Oh._

Ms. Simmons is standing at the front of the class, but Evan’s eyes never leave Connor. “Since you’ve all being bugging me _so much_ about it, you have the first half of the class to work on your projects.” Connor looks up at this, tilting his head in mild interest. Ms. Simmons keeps talking. “Go ahead and get in your groups.” His lips twitch into a scowl, turning back to his book.

Evan’s frozen, even as the rest of the class bursts into noise and motion. It’s the hunch in Connor’s shoulders, the way his eyes dulled. The hopelessness of it all. It’s so achingly familiar.

Heart hammering in his chest, Evan slowly rises and makes his way across the room, hovering at the edge of Connor’s desk.

There’s a horrible moment where Connor doesn’t react, and Evan doesn’t know if he should say something, and doesn’t know _what_ to say, anyways, and time stretches on and on and on. Finally, _finally_ , tired blue eyes slide over to him, widening slightly as he takes in Evan, the red-faced, fidgeting boy he bit on the first day of school. Connor shifts, opening his posture, as if waiting for Evan to speak.

“I, uh, I’m your partner? For the, um. For the project?” Evan stammers, hands twisting the hem of his shirt. “If that’s okay with you, I mean!”

Connor scoffs, but gestures to the empty seat beside him. Taylor moved to Brett’s desk, Evan notices idly, sliding into the plastic chair.

“You really do have awful luck,” Connor smiles sardonically, almost daring him to agree.

Evan shakes his head quickly. “N-no, not really,” Connor actually looks at him now, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I, um, I actually asked.”  

Connor just stares at him, and Evan suddenly sympathizes with the bacteria they studied in today’s bio lab. Finally, he shakes his head, breathing out a quiet laugh.

“I’m not sure if you, uh, got the outline,” Evan pulls his binder out of his bag, fishing around in it for the sheet. He slides the paper to Connor, who is still staring when Evan looks up.

“Nope,” He says, popping the ‘p’. He tilts his head at Evan, hair swinging with the movement as he rests his chin in his hand. “Haven’t been around for a while.”

“Oh, right.” He’s quiet as Connor scans the assignment, once, twice.

“This is a lot of work,” Connor says, raising an eyebrow. “You asked to be my partner?”

“I- yeah,” Evan drops his gaze, his fingers still picking at the seams of his dark blue polo. “Is… Is that okay?”

Maybe this was a mistake. Why would Connor want to be his partner in the first place? God, he’s so stupid. Even _Connor Murphy_ wouldn’t stoop that low-

“Yeah, whatever,” Connor shrugs, and Evan’s head snaps up. It’s his turn to stare, eyes wide in something more than shock.

Oh. Okay.

Cool.

Evan can’t help the small smile that forces its way onto his face.

Cool.

It’s not until Connor glances back at him, eyebrow raised, that Evan realizes he’s staring, and should probably say something.

This is _not_ how he thought today would go, he muses as they begin discussing topics. By the time Ms. Simmons is calling attention back to the front, Connor’s inviting him to “meet up at lunch tomorrow to work on it, if you want?”

He still looks tired, but there’s that hint of softness in his eyes that has Evan nodding enthusiastically back at him.

“Sounds great,” He grins, before considering that maybe he’s being too intense, it’s just a project, it’s not like Connor’s making him a friendship bracelet. He’s gathering his stuff to go back to his desk, struggling to hold everything with one arm, when he sees Connor staring at his cast.

Evan glances between the signature and the person who signed it, catching the smirk Connor can’t quite hide.

Evan sits down, a warmth spreading in his chest. He has to dig his teeth into his bottom lip to quell the dopey grin that threatens to expose him, pulling out his notebook as Ms. Simmons starts her lecture.

This is not how he thought today would go at all.

It’s so much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back, babey!
> 
> it's been. a very long time since i've uploaded.  
> sorry :(
> 
> but i'm back ! and now that school's out, i will (hopefully) be uploading regularly. 
> 
> thanks to everyone who's commented, or given me kudos... it means so, so much to me. 
> 
> i hope you enjoyed ??? thanks for reading ^^


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